Gereksiz İntikam

38

Taniya's pov

It's been a few months since the revelation that I am carrying the seed of zina.

His words broke something in me—but he is no one to break me. I trust my Lord blindly.

Allah will help me, just like He helped Asiya (A.S.) from a fitnah like Firaun.

Well, Shoaib is not Firaun—but not less than him either. How could he?

I know I spent my whole life in a dirty area where such things are common.
But only Allah knows how my brother raised me and provided me with all the safety.

Sometimes I wonder—is marrying the one you love really such a sin?

Maybe if Amma and Baba hadn't gotten married… or if Amma had married the man she was betrothed to… maybe my brother and I would have had something good in life. But what am I even thinking?

Even if Mumma had married the other man, Bhai and I would still have had to survive the same fate.

Yes, because children are in a man's naseeb.

Unintentionally, I caress this dirt growing inside my womb.

Tears fill my eyes as I remember that night. It was nothing less than a Qayamat.

I still can’t process how I let this dirt grow inside me.

I so badly want to tell Bhai. I know he will help me.
I so badly want to apply for khula, but this city…

I hate this city. It makes me so vulnerable. I don’t even know the language. Let alone finding a community to guide for khula ,

Every kind of zinA  is in trend here.

I just want to hide in my Bhai’s arms, to cry in his arms, for him to tell me to hide behind those walls again—just so I can feel some peace.

But you know what? I don’t have the heart to burden him again. He has his own problems to deal with.

He lost his child. Yes, Bhabhi had a miscarriage. I know you might be thinking—how could she even conceive so early?

Well, her case is completely different from mine. The child she lost was the result of their love and wait.

That unborn flesh was the fruit of halal—but Allah took him away. I don’t know why.

And here I am, trying to flush this dirt away.
I’m eating all sorts of things doctors say to avoid during pregnancy, but still, it’s not leaving my womb.

Allah knows how much I want to share this pain with my brother—but I won’t. Allah will help me.

I wipe my tears as I sit in a park a few feet away from his apartment.

I think he (Shoaib) has some issues—but I am not his mother to solve them.

I am human too. So I choose my peace over being a “good wife” who endures everything but still claims to choose her husband.

No, I am not that kind of wife. I am just waiting for a chance to escape.

I know he can’t do anything to Bhai and Bhabhi because Rubab Bhabhi is head over heels for Bhai.

But even after knowing everything logically, there's still fear in my heart.

Fear of destroying my brother’s happiness. I don’t want to cause him pain.
I don't ignore the multiple personalities of that shaitan.

And one thing I know really well—if he tries to use me as a pawn to separate Bhai and Bhabhi, Bhai will choose me.

But I don’t want him to choose me—because I know how much Bhai and Bhabhi love each other.

She’s younger than me, but still she treats me like her own baby—only because she knows how much Bhai loves me.

She is so innocent and pure. I will never let myself hurt them.

At least they deserve to be happy and be with the one they love.

I was lost in my thoughts when a hand on my shoulder made me jerk my head up.

I took a breath of relief when I saw the person standing in front of me.

Ella—my newfound friend in this hellish city.

But what makes my eyes narrow is the boy standing beside her.

Maybe she understands my unspoken question, as she speaks:

“He is Brevis, my cousin,” she introduces him.

I give him a smile, and she hands me a pack of popcorn.

I frown at her.

She sits beside me and says,
“Baby, today is the weekend. I know I should be banging my feet in some club, but today…” she trails off, looking towards the entrance of the park.

“Today?” I ask, looking in the same direction—or should I say, gawking.

“Brevis, can you bring us something to drink, baby brother?” she asks him.

“Alright, anything specific?” he replies, standing up.

“Whatever you bring, baby—but a blueberry soda would work,” she says, fluttering her eyelashes.

He shakes his head and leaves to get us drinks.

“Today what, Ella?” I ask again.

“Theodore is coming here. With his niece,” she says dramatically.

“Theodore who?” I ask.

“You’ll see, baby,” she says, resting her head on my shoulder.

I sigh. Allah, how dramatic she is... the disadvantage of having a younger friend.

But I am grateful.

She is the only shine in my dark life. Although I haven’t told her everything, she knows I’m suffering in an abusive marriage and that I’m unhappy with my pregnancy.

I met her in this same park a month ago. She lives in the building opposite his apartment.

Well, you must be wondering—what’s changed?

I changed.
I chose my happiness and peace rather than being a "good wife" to that shaitan.

I can’t snatch bhai’s happiness, but I can create happiness for myself.

So, from that night on, I stopped talking to him. No, I still do whatever he says, but then I find my own peace.

I don’t know if my silent treatment is affecting him, but I am happy.

He’s trying to act like a caring husband, but my heart has turned to stone.

I may forgive him one day for everything, but I can’t be with him.
No, I’ll never forget the words and pain I endured because of him.

And the strange thing is? He’s okay with the way I’m acting.
He didn’t force me.
Oh—how could I forget? Because of his child.

I do feel something for this life growing inside me because it’s a part of my body.
But when I remember what he did, the slightest piece of care I have for this baby vanishes like dust in the wind.

I know what’s done is done.
But I can’t act like a pathetic woman at his mercy, falling in love with him just because he shows pretend care—or because of this child.

No. Those things seem romantic only in movies.
In real life, you can’t love your tormentor.

I know I’m not strong.
But my faith screams at me that Allah brought this azmaish (trial) to me because He knows I can overcome it.

My Rab never burdens a soul beyond its capacity.

I come out of my thoughts when I hear her chirping voice:

“Jesus, Tanii! He’s here—Theodore King is here!”

*****
How's the chapter?

Is Taniya od right?

Unedited